


Perfume That Smells Like Lily

by tokyoeye



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, His Last Vow, Post Episode: s03 e03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1474084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokyoeye/pseuds/tokyoeye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set right after Sherlock gets onto the plane in Season 3 Episode 3 His Last Vow. The Woman has reappeared---to say farewell?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfume That Smells Like Lily

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lazily_astray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazily_astray/gifts).



> Sadly this is un-betaed since it is dedicated to Anne and she usually betas all my work :)  
> I hope you guys like it as well!  
> And as always, a kudo or a comment would mean the WORLD to me! xx

“Dear me, Mr Holmes, dear me.”

Sherlock’s nerves are instantly heightened as words shatter the still atmosphere like a broken glass. Confusion that is rarely evoked strikes him but the clicking high heels and the mind-luring perfume quickly dissolve his doubts. He frowns at the thought of last seeing her in his mind palace and blushes slightly as he recalls her to be naked. The Woman is clearly in charge of the situation judging by the time she is taking and the proud posture exaggerating the edges of her shoulder blade, and Sherlock decides to let her. Irene gracefully sits down across Sherlock and her eyes glisten as she sets eyes on the man she is more or less addicted to. Puzzles like these just don’t come in often enough and she has vowed to herself to never give up on solving it.

“Have you come to say farewell.” Sherlock’s response vibrates in his calm baritone covering up traces of his interest in her presence. His gaze sweeps up and down on her quickly, making deduction of potential weapons that he might have to encounter later. She is wearing Sherlock’s coat (presumably taken as she enters) and it perfectly hides everything underneath.

“No, Mr Holmes. Actually, I’m here to have that dinner you agreed to ten months ago.” Irene gives him her red wicked smile and Sherlock is suddenly reminded of the texting compilation between them. During the time of his absence in London and being ashamed of experiencing the foreign nostalgic feeling, Irene was the only one he could trust ironically and the only one fascinating enough to take his mind off on being tortured and killed by bloody Romanians.

“I take that drugging the pilots is kids’ trick to you? And the hostess?” The speed of his reply gives away Sherlock’s little bits of despair in trying to steer the conversation away from the said texts.

“Well the pilots, yes. Hostess? No. That little sweetheart leaks of submissive nature and I only need to ask nicely. Besides, who is going to serve us dinner if we have our waitress blacked out on the seat?” Irene bats her eyelashes and pouts her mouth, sticking to the role of the oh-so-innocent girl on a date. She leans in closer and breathes out,

“But that goodbye scene is truly heartbreaking Sherlock. And that wasn’t what I expected you to say at all. Well, it IS sensible since his wife and your brother were there.”

“Miss Adler, jealousy will take you to nowhere except maybe to a murder scene.”

“Mr Holmes, your cold manner should freeze my heart and send it to its grave.”

“Well in that case, feel free to make your leave.” Sherlock squints his eyes; he has clearly lost all his spirit and is not in the mood for a game. Irene sighs and leans back.

“Your brother,” she starts with a much more business-like tone, “is going to give you a call in exactly five minutes from now. And he is going to inform you that your service back in London is needed urgently. For what, I will not spoil it for you,” Her eyes glisten again with dangerous excitement. “But, I need to make sure that this plane will be seen to have taken off with you and that this little change of plan is unbeknownst to majority of people that have set their eyes on you. Oh, and do me a favour and try your best not to let your brother know I am on this plane? I would rather not have him on my tail for the next three months.”

“My brother’s network extends far beyond to that.” Sherlock coolly replies.

“Yes. I am well aware of that. But I’m on ‘Vaquita’ surveillance already and I would really prefer to have the bathroom to myself.”

“Did they really name their surveillance levels after nearly-distinct animals?”

“Apparently so.”

They share a brief moment of soft chuckling and are interrupted by Sherlock’s phone vibrating.

“Mycroft?” Sherlock answers the phone and Irene makes a mental note of how good Sherlock is at faking genuine emotions, “... I have only been gone for ten minutes… Oh for god’s sake, make up your mind.”Across him Irene gives him the biggest I-told-you-so smile. Sherlock silently rolls his eyes at her.

“Who needs me this time?” But his question remains unanswered and all he can hear from the other end is a high-pitched voice repeating the phrase “Did you miss me?” Sherlock hangs up and the familiarity of the voice strikes him immediately. But Irene widens her eyes and gives him a confirming nod. Sherlock can’t help but frown, pinching his lips and falls deep into thinking how it is possible.

“You know you can just ask.” Sherlock’s attention snaps back to Irene with annoyance as she disturbs his brain from continuing the thoughts. But as Irene slowly pulls out the file she has been hiding beneath Sherlock’s coat, his gaze turns into a curious kind. Sherlock is subconsciously engaged now, leaning forward pressuring Irene to hand the files to him.

“Uh-uh. Not so fast. I’m starving, Mr Holmes. And I would love to have that dinner now.” She winks at him and Sherlock sighs. He stands up and turns his heels towards the kitchen area and finds the hostess handcuffed to a seat but decides that the file is more important. Then he spends five minutes rummaging through the cupboards and trying to locate food and drinks and cutleries. Upon his returning he finds Irene already spreading out sheets of paper from the file and getting ready to work on it. She seems harmless enough in the huge coat of his, and her features become softer than usual but remain aesthetically-pleasing when she is engaged in work.

“Excuse me, Miss,” Sherlock decides to humour her for once. “Would you prefer chicken or salmon?”


End file.
